•^Bronson:Rlcott- 






Class ? S I I . 

Book , Se 

Copyright]^" aa^ ^ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSre 



SONNETS 



AND 



CANZONETS. 



BY 



a/bronson alcott. 



"Love can sun the realms of light." 

Schiller. 



BOSTON: 
ROBERTS BROTH 

1882. 







Copyright, 1882, 
By a. Bronson Alcott. 



/l-^OOfi 



University Press: 
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 



CONTENTS. 



INTRODUCTION. 

PAGE 

To A. Bronson Alcott, a Letter by F. B. Sanborn 5-10 

An Essay on the Sonnet ii-35 

Sonnets of Illustration 21-35 

I. Love in Spring 21 

II. The Maiden in April 22 

III. The Estrangement 23 

IV. Love in Time 24 

V. To those of Noble Heart 24 

VI. The Ocean a blessed God 27 

VII. The Nightingale 28 

VIIL The Fair Saint 29 

IX. Love a Poor Palmer 30 

X. Love against Love 31 

XL Death 32 

XII. Ah, Sweet Content 1 34 

XIII. The Poet's Immortality 34 



IV CONTENTS, 

PART FIRST. 

PAGB 

Proem 39 

Domestic Sonnets and Canzonets 41-89 

PART SECOND. 

Sonnets of Character 94-145 

A Prophetic Ode 146-149 







TO 

A. BRONSON ALCOTT, 

UPON READING HIS OCTOGENARIAN POEMS. 

TpHE period to which the scholar of two and 
eighty years belongs, is seldom that of his 
youngest readers: it is more likely to be the 
epoch of his own golden youth, when his masters 
were before his eyes, and his companions were 
the books and the friends of his heart. Thus the 
aged Landor could not bring his thoughts down 
from the grand forms of Greek and Roman litera- 
ture to which they were early accustomed ; he 
had swerved now and then from that loyalty in 
middle life, impressed and acted upon as he was 
by the great political events of the Napoleonic 



6 A. BRONSON ALCOTT. 

era, — but he returned to the epigram and the 
idyl in the ^* white winter of his age," and the 
voices of the present and of the future appealed 
to him in vain. In the old Goethe there was 
something more prophetic and august; he came 
nearer to his contemporaries, and prepared the 
way for a recognition of his greatness by the gene- 
ration which saw the grave close over him. In 
this, that strange but loyal disciple of his, the 
Scotch Carlyle, rendered matchless service to his 
master; yet he, too, in his unhappy old age, 
could only at intervals, and by gleams of inspira- 
tion, — as at the Edinburgh University Festival, — 
come into communication with the young spirits 
about him. To you, dear Friend and Master, be- 
longs the rare good fortune (good genius rather) 
that has brought you in these late days, into closer 
fellowship than of yore with the active and forth- 
looking spirit of the time. In youth and middle 
life you were in advance of your period, which 



A. BRONSON ALCOTT. 7 

has only now overtaken you when it must, by the 
ordinance of Nature, so soon bid you farewell, as 
you go forward to new prospects; in fairer worlds 
than ours. 

It is this union of youth and age, of the past 
and the present — yes, and the future also — that 
I have admired in these artless poems, over which 
we have spent together so many agreeable hours. 
Fallen upon an age in literature when the poetic 
form is everywhere found, but the discerning and 
inventive spirit of Poesy seems almost lost, I 
have marked with delight in these octogenarian 
verses, flowing so naturally from your pen, the 
very contradiction of this poetic custom of the 
period. Your want of familiarity with the ac- 
customed movement of verse in our time, brings 
into more distinct notice the genuine poetical 
motions of your genius. Having been admitted 
to the laboratory, and privileged to witness the 
action and reaction of your thought, as it crystal- 



8 A, BRONSON ALCOTT. 

lized into song, I perceived, for the first time, 
how high sentiment, by which you have from 
youth been inspired, may become the habitual 
movement of the mind, at an age when so many, 
if they Hve at all in spirit, are but nursing the 
selfish and distorted fancies of morose singularity. 
To you the world has been a brotherhood of noble 
souls, — too few, as we thought, for your compan- 
ionship, — but which you have enlarged by the 
admission to one rank of those who have gone, 
and of us who remain to love you and listen to 
your oracles. The men and the charming women 
who recognized your voice when it was that of 
one crying in the wilderness -^ ^^ Prepare ye the 
way of our Lord," are joined, in your commemo- 
rative sonnets, with those who hearken to its 
later accents, proclaiming the same acceptable 
year of the Lord. 

It is the privilege of poets — immemorial and 
native to the clan — that they should share the 



A. BRONSON ALCOTT. 



9 



immortality they confer. This right you may 
vindicate for your own. The honors you pay, 
in resounding verse, to Channing, to Emerson, to 
Margaret Fuller, to Hawthorne, Thoreau, and the 
rest of the company with whom you trod these 
groves, and honored these altars of the Spirit un- 
named, return in their echoes to yourself. They 
had their special genius, and you yours no less, 
though it found not the same expression with 
theirs. We please our love with the thought that, 
in these sonnets and canzonets of afifection, you 
have celebrated yourself with them ; that the swift 
insight, the ennobling passion for truth and virtue, 
the high resolve, the austere self-sacrifice, the 
gentle submission to a will eternally right, in which 
these friends, so variously gifted, found a common 
tie, — all these are yours also, — and may they 
be ours ! The monuments and trophies of genius 
are perishable, but the soul's impression abides 
forever, forma mentis CBter7ta, To that imperish- 



lO A. BRONSON ALCOTT. 

able, ever-beauteous, self-renouncing, loyal, and 
steadfast Spirit of the Universe which we learned 
to worship in our youth, and which has never for- 
saken our age and bereavement, may these offer- 
ings, and all that we are, be consecrated now and 
forever ! 

F. B. SANBORN. 

Concord, January i, 1882. 




AN ESSAY 



ON THE 



SONNET AND THE CANZONET. 



THE 



SONNET AND THE CANZONET. 



'' OCORN not the sonnet," said Wordsworth, 
and then gave us at least fifty noble 
reasons why we should not, — for so many at 
least of his innumerable sonnets are above lan- 
guor and indifference, and all of them above 
contempt. Milton was more self-restrained than 
Wordsworth, and wrote fewer sonnets, every one 
of which is a treasure, either for beauty of verse, 
nobility of thought, happy portraiture of persons, 
or quaint and savage humor, — like that on *' Te- 
trachordon," and the elongated sonnet in which 



14 



THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET 



he denounces the Presbyterians, and tells them 
to their face, *^New Presbyter is but old Priest 
writ large." Shakespeare unlocked his heart with 
sonnets in another key than Milton's, — less con- 
formed to the model of the ItaHan sonnet, but 
more in keeping with English verse, of which 
Shakespeare had the entire range. His sonnets 
are but quatrains following each other by threes, 
with a resounding couplet binding them together 
in one sheaf, and his example has made this form 
of the sonnet legitimate for all who write Eng- 
lish verse, — no matter what the studious or the 
pedantic may say. Surrey also, who first used 
the sonnet in English, wrote it in this free man- 
ner of Shakespeare, as well as in the somewhat 
stricter form that Sidney employed, and it is only 
of late years that they have tried to shut us up 
to one definite and unchanging sequence and 
interplay of rhyme. Mr. Alcott in these new 
sonnets, the ripe fruit of an aged tree, has used 



THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET 



15 



the freedom that nature gave him, and years 
allow: he has written with little uniformity in 
the order and number of his rhymes, but with 
much regard to the spirit of the sonnet as a 
high form of verse. I fancy that Dante (who may 
be called the father of the sonnet, though not 
the first to write it) chose this graceful and 
courteous verse, because it is so well suited to 
themes of love and friendship. When he would 
express sorrow or anger, or light and jesting 
humor, he had recourse to the canzonet, the 
terza rima^ or what he called the ballad, — some- 
thing quite unlike what we know by that name. 
Mr. Alcott has followed in the same general 
course; his sonnets are one thing, his canzonets 
another: though the difference in feeling, which 
prompts him to use one form rather than the 
other, cannot always be definitely expressed. It 
is felt rather than seen, and seen rather by the 
effect of the finished poem than by the light of 
any rule or formal definition. 



1 6 THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET 

Definiteness, in fact, must not be looked for in 
these poems; nor is it the characteristic of the 
highest poetry in any language. Verse may be 
powerful and suggestive, or even clear in the sense 
of producing a distinct impression on the mind, 
without being definite, and responding to all the 
claims of analysis. I take it that few readers will 
fail to see the central thought, or the vivid portrai- 
ture in each of these sonnets and canzonets ; but 
fewer still will be able to explain precisely, even to 
their own minds, what each suggestive phrase and 
period includes and excludes in its meaning. For 
this fine vagueness of utterance, the sonnet has 
always given poets a fair field, and our present 
author has not gone beyond his due privilege in this 
respect, though he has availed himself of it more 
frequently than many would have done. The mot- 
,toes and citations accompanying each sonnet may 
help the reader to a meaning that does not at once 
flash in his eyes. But he must not expect to con- 



THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET 



17 



quer these verses at a single reading. The thought 
of years, the labor of months, has been given to the 
writing of them ; and the reader ought not to com- 
plain if he take as much time to comprehend them 
as the author took to write them. They are worth 
the pains of reading many times over, and even of 
learning them by heart, for which their compendi- 
ous form well fits them. 

It may be complained that these sonnets lack 
variety. This is indeed a fault into which sonnet- 
eers often fall, — our best collection of American 
sonnets hitherto — those of Jones Very — being 
open to this censure. It will be found, perhaps, 
that the sameness of rhyme and thought is often 
but an appearance, — the delicate shade of meaning 
being expressed, in a vocabulary of no large extent, 
by a rare process of combining and collocating 
words. Certain phrases recur, too, because ' the 
thought necessarily recurs, — as when the oratory 
of Phillips and of Parker, as of others, is character- 



1 8 THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET 

ized by the general term, eloquence. In the poverty 
of our language, there is no other term to use, while 
the qualifying words and their connection suffi- 
ciently distinguish between one person and another. 
The critical are referred to Homer, who never fails 
to repeat the same word, or the same verse, when 
it comes in his way to do so. 

But to return to the sonnet itself. Landor, to 
whom as to Thoreau, Milton was the greatest Eng- 
lish poet, thought that the blind Puritan had made 
good his offence against the Psalms of David, by 
the sonnet on the slaughtered saints of Piedmont. 
*' Milton, '* he says, *Svas never half so wicked a 
regicide as when he lifted up his hand and smote 
King David. He has atoned for it, however, by 
composing a magnificent psalm of his own, in the 
form of a sonnet. There are others in Milton com- 
parable to it, but none elsewhere." And then the 
wilful critic goes on to say, putting his words into 
the mouth of Porson : '^ In the poems of Shake- 



THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET. 



19 



speare, which are printed as sonnets, there is some- 
times a singular strength and intensity of thought, 
with httle of that imagination which was afterw^ard 
to raise him highest in the universe of poetry. 
Even the interest we take in the private Hfe of this 
miraculous man, cannot keep the volume in our 
hands long together. We acknowledge great power, 
but we experience great wearinesso Were I a poet, 
I would much rather have written the ^Allegro,' 
or the 'Penseroso' than all those/' Monstrous as 
this comment seems to us, there is a certain truth 
in it, the sonnet in large quantities always producing 
weariness; for which reason, as I suppose, Dante 
interspersed his love sonnets in the " Vita Nuova '' 
and the " Convito,'' with canzonets and ballads. 
His commentaries — often of a singular elo- 
quence — also serve as a relief to the formal verse, 
as his melodious Tuscan lines do to the formality 
of his poetical metaphysics. A person, says Lan- 
dor, ** lately tried to persuade me that he is never so 



20 THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET. 

highly poetical, as when he is deeply metaphysical. 
He then quoted fourteen German poets of the first 
order, and expressed his compassion for iEschylus 
and Homer/' Dante's metaphysics were of a 
higher cast, and so interfused with love and fair 
ladies, that they only weary us with a certain per- 
plexity as to where are the limits of courtship and 
of logic. Mr. Alcott also is quaintly metaphysical 
in Dante's fashion; like the sad old Florentine, 
but with a more cheerful spirit, he addresses him- 
self 

^^To every captive soul and gentle heart," 
(A ciascun alma presa e gentil core,) 

and would fain inquire of those who go on a pil- 
grimage of Love (O voi che per la via d' Amor 
passate) and of the fair ladies who have learned 
love at first hand (Donne che avete intelletto 
d' amore). His doctrine is that of the wise man 
whom Dante quotes and approves in the ^*Vita 
Nuova," — 



THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET. 2 1 

"One and the same are love and the gentle heart." 
(Amor e' 1 cor gentil sono una cosa.) 

Other Americans have written sonnets in this 
ancient faith, — as he, who thus (in that happy 
season so aptly described by Mr. Alcott, as 

*' Youth's glad morning when the rising East 
Glows golden with assurance of success, 
And life itself 's a rare continual feast, 
Enjoyed the more if meditated less,") 

addressed his own cor gentil: — 

"My heart, forthlooking in the purple day, 
Tell me what sweetest image thou may'st see, 
Fit to be type of thy dear love and thee? 
Lo ! here where sunshine keeps the wind away, 
Grow two young violets, — humble lovers they, — 
With drooping face to face, and breath to breath. 
They look and kiss and love and laugh at death ; — 
Yon bluebird singing on the scarlet spray 



22 THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET, 

Of the bloomed maple in the blithe spring air, 

While his mate answers from the wood of pines, 

And all day long their music ne'er declines; 

For love their labor is, and love their care. 

^ These pass with day and spring ; ' the true heart saith, — 

' Forever thou wilt love, and she be fair.' " 

In the same Italian vein, another and better 
poet, but with less warmth, touches the same 
theme, — 

^^Thou art like that which is most sweet and fair, 

A gentle morning in the youth of spring. 

When the few early birds begin to sing 

Within the delicate depths of the fine air. 

Yet shouldst thou these dear beauties much impair. 

Since thou art better than is everything 

Which or the woods or skies or green fields bring. 

And finer thoughts hast thou than they can wear. 

In the proud sweetness of thy grace I see 

What lies within, — a pure and steadfast mind, 

Which its own mistress is of sanctity, 



THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET 23 

And to all gentleness hath been refined. 
So that thy least breath falleth upon me 
As the soft breathing of midsummer wind." 

In the changes of time and the fitful mood of 
the poet, sadness succeeds to this assured joy, 
and he sings, — 

^'The day has past, I never may return; 
Twelve circling years have run since first I came 
And kindled the pure truth of friendship's flame; 
Alone remain these ashes in the urn — 
Vainly for light the taper may I turn, — 
Thy hand is closed, as for these years, the same, 
And for the substance naught is but the name. 
No more a hope, no more a ray to bum. 
But once more in the pauses of thy joy, 
Remember him who sought thee in his youth, 
And with the old reliance of the boy 
Asked for thy treasures in the guise of tmth." 

Here is another voice, chanting in another 
strain, — 



24 



THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET 



^^Thy beauty fades, and with it, too, my love, 
For 'twas the selfsame stalk that bore the flower; 
Soft fell the rain, and, breaking from above. 
The sun looked out upon our nuptial hour; 
And I had thought forever by thy side 
With bursting buds of hope in youth to dwell ; 
But one by one Time strewed thy petals wide. 
And every hope's wan look a grief can tell ; 
For I had thoughtless lived beneath his sway, 
Who like a tyrant dealeth with us all, — 
Crowning each rose, though rooted in decay, 
With charms that shall the spirit's love enthral. 
And, for a season, turn the soul's pure eyes 
From virtue's bloom that time and death defies." 

Out of this valley of sadness the spirit rises on 
bolder w^ing, as the melancholy mood passes 
away, — 

" Hearts of eternity, hearts of the deep ! 
Proclaim from land to sea your mighty fate ; 
How that for you no living comes too late, 



THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET. 25 

How ye cannot in Theban labyrinth creep, 
How ye great harvests from small surface reap, 
Shout, excellent band, in grand primeval strain. 
Like midnight winds that foam along the main, — 
And do all things rather than pause to weep. 
A human heart knows naught of littleness. 
Suspects no man, compares with no one's ways. 
Hath in one hour most glorious length of days, 
A recompense, a joy, a lovehness ; 
Like eaglet keen, shoots into azure far. 
And always dwelling nigh is the remotest star.'* 

Here, as Lander said, *^ is a sonnet, and the 
sonnet admits not that approach to the prosaic 
which is allowable in the ballad/' For this rea- 
son Mr. Alcott, who began his poetical autobi- 
ography, when he was eighty years old, in a 
ballad measure, has now passed into the majesty 
of the sonnet, as he has come to those passages 
of life which will not admit prosaic treatment. 
Moderately used, and not worked to death, as 



26 THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET 

Wordsworth employed it, the sonnet is a great 
uphfter of poesy. It calls to the reader, as the 
early Christian litanies did to the worshipper, 
SiLrsttm corday Raise your thoughts ! The can- 
zonet lets us down again into the pathetic, the 
humorous, or the fanciful, — though in this vol- 
ume the canzonet generally betokens sadness. It 
may easily become an ode, as in the verses on 
Garfield : indeed the ode may be considered as 
an extended canzonet, or the canzonet as a brief 
ode. It is the sonnet that chiefly concerns us 
now, and that form of the sonnet which deals 
with love ; since the germ of this book was a 
romance of love, seeking to express itself in the 
uplifting strain and tender cadence of successive 
sonnets ; which lead us though green pastures and 
beside the still waters, and then to the shore of 
the resounding sea, — itself w^orthy of a sonnet 
which I have somewhere heard : — 



THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET 



27 



" Ah mournful Sea ! Yet to our eyes he wore 
The placid look of some great god at rest; 
With azure arms he clasped the embracing shore, 
While gently heaved the billows of his breast ; 
We scarce his voice could hear, and then it seemed 
The happy murmur of a lover true. 
Who, in the sweetness of his sleep, hath dreamed 
Of kisses falling on his hps like dew. 
Far off, the blue and gleaming hills above, 
The Sun looked through his veil of thinnest haze. 
As coy Diana, blushing at her love, 
Half hid with her own light her earnest gaze. 
When on the shady Latmian slope she found 
Fair-haired Endymion slumbering on the ground.'* 

This is one picture in the kaleidoscope of Aphro- 
dite, who was a sea-born goddess, and partial to 
her native element. Yet it is not through the eye 
alone that she ensnares us, but with the music of 
birds, — and in poetry her own darling bird is not 
the dove, but the nightingale, — a stranger to our 



28 THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET 

orchards and forests, but familiar to the groves of 
the Muse. A poet, by no means happy in his 
love in after years, thus saluted this bird, with 
music as sweet as her own, — 

*^0 Nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray, 
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still, 
Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart doth fill, 
While the jolly Hours lead on propitious May. 
Thy liquid notes, that close the eye of day. 
First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill. 
Portend success in love ; O, if Jove's will 
Have linked that amorous power to thy soft lay. 
Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate 
Foretell my hopeless doom in some grove nigh ; 
As thou from year to year hast sung too late 
For my relief, yet hadst no reason why; 
Whether the Muse, or Love call thee his mate, 
Both them I serve, and of their train am I." 

This is plainly a fabricated song, not poured out 
from the heart, though full of melodious fancy. 



THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET. 



29 



More natural and earnest is the tone in which our 
poet soon after praises one who had passed un- 
heeding by the bower of love, and devoted herself 
to a life of piety and good deeds. We cannot 
guess who she was, but such saints are seen in 
every land and age. 

'^ Lady, that in the prime of earliest youth 
Wisely hast shunned the broad way and the green, 
And with those few art eminently seen 
That labor up the hill of heavenly truth, — 
The better part with Mary and with Ruth, 
Chosen thou hast; and they that overween. 
And at thy growing virtues fret their spleen. 
No anger find in thee, but pity and ruth. 
Thy care is fixed, and zealously attends 
To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, 
And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sure 
Thou, when the bridegroom with his feastful friends 
Passes to bliss at the mid hour of night, 
Hast gained thy entrance, virginwise and pure.'* 



30 THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET 

It is a truth for the initiated that love begins 
with worship, and favors piety in its first ap- 
proaches ; and we need not wonder if the devout 
poet in due time paid his amorous addresses to 
this bride of the Spirit, whose lamp must have been 
dim, indeed, if it did not reveal to her the lover 
in disguise of the brother in Israel. A poet of our 
day, in a sonnet somewhat faulty in form, but true 
to the faith of your pilgrim-vow, ye happy palmers 
of Love, — 

^' O voi che per la via d' Amor passate ! '* 
has written as follows : — 

'^^As calmest waters mirror Heaven the best, 
So best befit remembrances of thee 
Calm holy hours from earthly passion free, 
Sweet twilight musing, — Sabbaths in the breast. 
No stooping thought, nor any grovelling care, 
The sacred whiteness of that place shall stain. 
Where, far from heartless joys and rites profane. 
Memory has reared to thee an altar fair. 



THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET. 



31 



Yet frequent visitors shall kiss the shrine, 

And ever keep its vestal lamp alight; 

All noble thoughts, all dreams divinely bright, 

That waken or delight this soul of mine.' 

So Love, meek pilgrim ! his young vows did pay, 

With glowing eyes that must his lips gainsay." 

A higher gospel is preached in the sonnet of 
another American poet, who has written too few 
verses, — or rather has published too few of the 
many he has composed. 

"As unto blooming roses, summer dews. 
Or morning's amber to the tree-top choirs. 
So to my bosom are the beams that use 
To rain on me from eyes that Love inspires; 
Your love, — vouchsafe it, royal-hearted Few, — 
And I will set no common price thereon ; 
O, I will keep, as Heaven his holy blue. 
Or Night her diamonds, that dear treasure won. 
But aught of inward faith must I forego. 
Or miss one drop from Truth's baptismal hand. 



32 THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET 

Think poorer thoughts, pray cheaper prayers, and grow 
Less worthy trust, to meet your hearts' demand : 
Farewell ! your wish I for your sake deny ; 
Rebel to love in truth to love am I." 

A poet who has been more than once quoted in 
this essay, saw no sharp hostility between Love 
and Death, — those reputed foes, — but thus ad- 
dressed the last earthly benefactor of mankind : — 

'^ O Death ! thou art the palace of our hopes, 
The storehouse of our joys, — great labor's end.'* 

His friend, confronting the same inevitable guest, 
questioned the dark angel, in these lines, that con- 
form to the rule of the sonnet in spirit, if not in 
rhyme : — 

^* What strange deep secret dost thou hold, O Death ! 
To hallow those thou claimest for thine own? 
That which the open book could never teach, 
The closed one whispers, as we stand alone 



THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET 33 

By one, how more alone than we! — and strive 
To comprehend the passion of that peace. 
In vain our thoughts would wind within the heart, 
The heart of this great mystery of release ! — 
Baptism of Death — which steepest infant eyes 
In grace of calm that saints might hope to wear, 
Whose cold touch purifies the guilty brow. 
And sets again the seal of childhood there — 
Our line of life in vain would sound thy sea. 
That which we seek to know, — we soon shall be." 

Let me now close this garland of sonnets with 
two choice flowers from that garden of Elizabeth 
which no modern botanist and no anthologist of 
ancient fame can equal in fragrance and amaran- 
thine beauty. Both breathe the sweetness of Love, 
— the first, from the '* Parthenophe and Partheno- 
phil ** of Barnaby Barnes, with some flavor of dis- 
content, — but the second, taken from the warm 
hand of Shakespeare, is full of that noble confi- 
dence, which he, of all poets, most naturally in- 
spires. 



34 THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET 

^' Ah, sweet Content ! where is thy mild abode ? 
Is it with shepherds and hght-hearted swains, 
Which sing upon the downs and pipe abroad, 
Tending their flocks and cattle on the plains? 
Ah, sweet Content ! where dost thou safely rest? 
In heaven? with angels which the praises sing 
Of Him that made and rules at his behest 
The minds and hearts of every living thing? 
Ah, sweet Content ! where does thy harbor hold ? 
Is it in churches with religious men, 
Which please the gods with prayers manifold, 
And in their studies meditate it then? 
Whether thou dost on heaven or earth appear. 
Be where thou wilt, thou \vilt not harbor here/' 

And now upon this delicious disconsolate stro- 
phe, hear the brave turn and reply of Shakespeare's 
antistrophe, — and take it for your consolation, 
lovers and poets ! — ■ 

'' Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul 
Of the wide world, dreaming on things to come, 



THE SONNET AND THE CANZONET 



35 



Can yet the lease of my true love control, 

Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom. 

The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured, 

And the sad augurs mock their own presage ; 

Incertainties now crown themselves assured, 

And peace proclaims olives of endless age. 

Now with the drops of this most balmy time 

My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes. 

Since, spite of him, I'll live in this poor rhyme, 

While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes : 

And thou in this shalt find thy monument, 

When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent." 

F. B. S. 

February 6, 1882. 




SONNETS AND CANZONETS. 



" These quiet and green places, these mountains and valleys, 
were created by Nature on purpose for loving hearts.'* 

Meli's Canzonets. 



''''Be it that my unseasonable song 
Come out of time, that fault is in the time ; 
And I must not do Virtue so much wrongs 
As love her aught the worse for others'* crime; 
And yet I find some blessed spirits among 
That cherish me, and like and grace my rhymeP 

Daniel. 



PROEM. 

T ONG left unwounded by the grisly foe, 

Who sometime pierces all with fatal shaft, 
Still on my cheek fresh youth did lively glow, 
And at his threatening arrow gaily laught; 
Came then my friendly scholar, and we quaffed 
From learning's spring, its sparkHng overflow; 
All through the lingering evening's charmed hours. 
Delightful fellowship in thought was ours : 
If I from Poesy could not all abstain. 
He my poor verses oft did quite undress, 
New wrapt in words my thought's veiled naked- 
ness. 
Or kindly dipt my steed's luxuriant mane: 
'TAvas my delight his searching eye to meet, 
In days of genial versing, memories sweet. 

January i, 1882. 



PART I. 



*^ O spring, thou youthful beauty of the year. 
Mother of flowers, bringer of warbling quires, 
Of all sweet new green things, and new desires J^ 

GuARiNi's Pastor Fido. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS, 43 



I. 



Auspicious morn, com'st opportune, unbought? 
Bring'st thou glad furtherance in thy rosy train? 
Speed then, my chariot, following fast my thought, 
And distance on thy track the lumbering wain, 
O'er plain and hillock nearing her abode, 
The goal of expectation, fortune's road, — 
The maiden waits to greet with courtesy 
Her bashful guest, while stranger yet is he: 
From friendly circle at the city's Court 
She 's come to cull the flowers, to toy and play 
With prattling childhood, love's delightful sport; 
Its smile call forth, to scent the new-mown hay. 
Enjoy the wholesome laughter, simple mien. 
Of country people in this rural scene. 



^' So sweetly she bade me adieu, 
I thought that she bade me returfi!^ 

Shenstone. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS. 45 



II. 



Ah! why so brief the visit, short his stay? 
The acquaintance so surprising, and so sweet. 
Stolen is my heart, 'tis journeying far away. 
With that shy stranger whom my voice did greet. 
That hour so fertile of entrancing thought, 
So rapt the conversation, and so free, — 
My heart lost soundings, tenderly upcaught. 
Driven by soft sails of love and ecstasy ! 
Was I then? was I? clasped in Love's embrace. 
And touched with ardors of divinity? 
Spake with my chosen lover face to face, 
Espoused then truly? such my destiny? 
I cannot tell; but own the pleasing theft, 
That when the stranger went, I was of Love bereft. 



" Though the Has of her nature was not to thought but 
to sympathy^ yet was she so perfect in her own nature^ as 
to meet intellectual persoits by the fulness of her hearty 
warming them by her sentiments; believing^ as she did, 
that, by dealing nobly with all, all would show themselves 
nobler 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS. 



III. 



Not all the brilliant beauties I have seen, 

Mid the gay splendors of some Southern hall, 

In jewelled grandeur, or in plainest mien. 

Did so my fancy and my heart enthral, 

As doth this noble woman, Nature's queen ! 

Such hearty greeting from her lips did fall, 

And I ennobled was through her esteem; 

At once made sharer of her confidence, 

As by enchantment of some rapturous dream; 

With subtler vision gifted, finer sense, 

She loosed my tongue's refraining diffidence, 

And softer accents lent our varying theme: 

So much my Lady others doth surpass, 

I read them all through her transparent glass. 



47 



" They love indeed who quake to say they loveJ' 

Sir Philip Sidney. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS. 49 



IV. 



The April rains are past, the frosts austere, — 
The flowers are hungering for the genial sun, 
The snow 's dissolved, the merry birds are here. 
And rural labors now are well begun. 
Hither, from the disturbing, noisy Court 
I Ve flown to this sequestered, quiet scene, 
To meditate on Love and Love's disport 
Mid these smooth pastures and the meadows 

green. 
Sure 'twere no fault of mine, no whispering sin, 
If these coy leaves he sends me seem to speak 
All that my heart, caressing, folds within; 
Nor if I sought to smother, my flushed cheek 
Would tell too plainly what I cannot hide, 
Fond fancy disenchant nor set aside. 



"'Love is the life of friendships letters are 
The life of love^ the loadstones that by rare 
Attraction 7nake souls 7neets and melt, and mix, 
As when by fire exalted gold we fix!' 

HOWEL. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS. 



SI 



Most precious leaves the mail delights to bring, 

All loving parcels, neatly squared and sealed; 

Her buoyant fancy trims its glossy wing, 

And flits courageous o'er Love's flowery field. 

Sure 'tis a tender and a sparkling flame 

That letters kindle and do sweetly feed; 

Wilt fly, schoolmaster, for such noble game? 

Maiden that doth all other maids exceed ! 

She writes with passion, and a nimble wit, 

Void of all pedantry and vain pretence, 

With native genius forcible and fit, 

A flowing humor and surpassing sense: 

Who gains her heart will win a precious prize. 

And fortunate be in every lover's eyes. 



" This place may seem for lovers'* leisure made, 
So close those elms inweave their lofty shade. 
The twining woodbine, how it climbs to breathe 
Refreshing sweets aroufid us ; all beneath, 
The ground with grass of cheerful green bespread, 
Through which the springiiig flower uprears its head, 
Lo, here are kingcups of a golden hue. 
Medleyed with daisies white and endive blue, 
And honeysuckles of a purple dye : 
Co?tfusion gay I bright waving to the eye J' 

Ambrose Phillips. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS, 53 



VI. 



Tis but a half-hour's walk the Mill-Dam o'er, 
Past Punch Bowl Inn, where, by the turnpike's side, 
The shaded pathway winding to the door, 
The mansion rises in ancestral pride : — 
Its shaven lawn, and blossoming orchard hoar. 
And trellised vines, and hedges trim and neat. 
Show plenty and refinement here abide, — 
The generous gentleman's fair country-seat. 
Now, whilst the full moon glances soft and bright 
O'er Mall and Mill-Dam and suburban street, 
Turn hitherward thine unaccustomed feet. 
At afternoon, or evening, or late night; 
A change of scene oft rare attraction lends 
To new acquaintance, as to older friends. 



'^ If I may trust the flattering truth of sleepy 
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand: 
My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne^ 
And all this day an unaccustomed spirit 
Lifts me above the ground with cheer fcl thoughts''' 

Shakespeare. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS. 



55 



VII. 

The morning 's clear, the sky without a frown, 
The dew-bespangled pastures wet the shoe; 
Sauntering full early toward the sleeping town, 
We'll take the dry, well-trodden avenue; 
On these crisp pathways, and familiar grounds 
(Unless my flattering heart be over-bold). 
While lingering purposely amid our rounds, 
Some shady lane may love to hear all told. 
One name has captured his too partial ear, — 
(These kind, concealing bushes love invite 
No tell-tales are, nor neighbors impolite;) 
I '11 hear his suit devoid of blame or fear. 
Impatiently the moment I await; 
Who nothing ventures, stays disconsolate. 



^' Who knows thy destiny? when thou hast done, 
Perchance her cabinet may harbor thee, 
Whither all noble ambitious wits do run, 
A 7iest almost as full of good as she, 
Mark if to get thee she o'erskip the rest, 
Mark if she read thee thrice, and kiss the name, 
Mark if she do the same that they protest, 
Mark if she mark whither her woman earned 

Donne. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS. 57 

VIII. 

Mean are all titles of nobility, 

And kings poor spendthrifts, while I do compare 

The wealth she daily lavishes on me 

Of love, the noble kingdom that I share: 

Is it the jealous year, for emphasis. 

Sheds beauteous sunshine and refreshing dews? 

My maiden's month doth softHer court and kiss, 

Tint springtime's virgin cheek with rosier hues 

Fly faster o'er my page, impassioned quill. 

Signing this note of mine with tenderer touch ! 

Say I no measure find to mete my will. 

Say that I love, but cannot tell how much; 

Let time and trouble the full story tell : 

I cannot love thee more, I know I love thee well. 



^' Let raptured fancy on that moment diuell 
Whe7i thy dear vows in tremblmg accents fell^ 
When love acknowledged waked the tender sigh, 
Swelled thy full breast, and filled the melting eyeT 

Langhorne. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS, 59 



IX. 



Now I no longer wait my love to tell, 

As 'twere a weakness love should not commit; 

E'en did avowal my fond hope dispel, 

My passion would of weakness me acquit. 

Enamoured thus and holden by its spell, 

Evasive words disloyal were, unfit 

To emphasize the exquisite happiness 

My boldest accents falteringly express; 

Here, take my hand, and, life-long wedded, lead 

Me by thy side; and, with my hand, my heart 

Given thee long since in thought, given now in 

deed ; 
My life, my love, shall play no faithless part. 
Blest be that hour, when, meeting face to face. 
Our vows are plighted, ours the dear embrace ! 



" Venus, thy eternal sway 
All the race of men obey.^^ 

Euripides. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS. gj 



Unconquerable and inviolate 

Is Love; servant and sovereign of man's wit: 

Though the light-winged fancy changeful flit, 

She rules unswervingly her fair estate, 

Overbears mischance and error, envy and hate; 

High intellect, ambition, passion, pride, 

Endowments that capricious Fortune brings, 

By her disfranchisements are set aside; 

The mistress she alike of slaves and kings, 

Empress of Earth's dominions, far and wide, 

Eldest of potentates, and latest born. 

Of all in Heaven above or Earth below, 

No being so illustrious or forlorn, 

That to Love's sceptre doth not gladly bow. 



" Ye tradeful merchants ! that with weary toil 
Do seek 7nost precious things to make your gain^ 
And both the Indies of their treasure spoil, 
What needeth you to seek so far in vain ? 
For, lo I my love doth in herself contain 
All this world^s riches that may far be found ; 

But that which fairest is, but few behold, 
Her mind adorned with virtues manifold'' 

Spenser. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS. 63 



XI. 



Ancestral tendencies far down descend; 
They bless or blame for generations long; 
They prick us forward toward our destined end, 
Alike the weak, the sluggish, and the strong. 
When her grave ancestor, of Winthrop's date, 
Did with the rich mint-master's daughter join 
In wedlock, he, sagacious magistrate. 
Gained more in sterling worth than silver coin: 
So, when King's Chapel saw, in gladsome May, 
The mild schoolmaster lead his willing bride, 
And the courtly warden give her hand away. 
Mintage of like worth had no land beside. 
True love alone nobility doth outvie, 
And character's the sterling currency. 



" How still the sea I behold^ how calm the sky I 
And ho7v, in sportive chase^ the swallows fly I 
Sweet breathe the fields^ and now a gentle breeze 
Moves every leaf and trembles through the trees'^ 

Phillips. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS. 65 

XII. 

Hither, the gray and shapely church beside, 
At sandy Hingham, by the sounding sea. 
From the disturbing town escaped thus wide, 
I 'm come, from all encumbering care set free, 
To raise the choral song, with friends discourse. 
Roam the wide fields for flowers, or seaward sail. 
Or to Cohassef s strand repair, where hoarse 
Tumultuous surges chant their ceaseless tale; 
Or poesy entertain, grave Wordsworth's lays. 
Melodious musing childhood's glorious prime, 
Shakespeare's warm sonnets or Venetian plays. 
Or that sad wizard Mariner's marvellous Rime. 
Here in these haunts, this lovers' company. 
Sweet Love's symposium hold we happily. 



^^ Books have always a secret influe7ice on the under- 
standing: we cannot at pleasure obliterate ideas ; he that 
reads books of science^ though without any desire for 
improvement^ will g?vw more k?iowi?ig ; he that e7iter- 
tains hi77iself with 77ioral or religious treatises will 
imperceptibly advdnce to good7iess ; the ideas which are 
often offered to the 77ii7id will at last fi7id a lucky moment 
when it is disposed to receive themP 

Dr. Johnson. 



SONA^ETS AND CANZONETS. 67 

XIII. 

My Lady reads, with judgment and good taste, 
Books not too many, but the wisest, best, 
Pregnant with sentiment sincere and chaste, 
Rightly conceived were they and aptly dressed : 
These wells of learning tastes she at the source, — 
Johnson's poised periods, Fenelon's deep sense, 
Taylor's mellifluous and sage discourse. 
Majestic Milton's epic eloquence, — 
Nor these alone her thoughts do all engage. 
But classic authors of the modern time. 
And the great masters of the ancient age, 
In prose alike and of the lofty rhyme: 
Montaigne and Cowper, Plutarch's gallery, 
Blind Homer's Iliad and his Odyssey. 



" Ye blessed creatures^ I have heard the call 
Ye to each other make : I see 
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee ; 
My heart is at your festival^ 
My head hath its coronal^ 
The fulness of your bliss I feel — I feel it all''' 

Wordsworth. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS, 69 

XIV. 

Not Wordsworth's genius, Pestalozzi's love, 

The stream have sounded of clear infancy. 

Baptismal waters from the Head above 

These babes I foster daily are to me; 

I dip my pitcher in these living springs 

And draw, from depths below, sincerity; 

Unsealed, mine eyes behold all outward things 

Arrayed in splendors of divinity. 

What mount of vision can with mine compare? 

Not Roman Jove nor yet Olympian Zeus 

Darted from loftier ether through bright air 

One spark of holier fire for human use. 

Glad tidings thence these angels downward bring, 

As at their birth the heavenly choirs do sing. 



''^ Fresh as the mornings earnest as the hour 
That calls the noisy world to grateful sleepy 
Our silent thought reveres the nameless power 
That high seclusion round thy life doth keepT 

Sanborn. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS. 



n 



XV. 

Daughter, beloved of all, thy tender eye, 
Sweet disposition, and thy gentle voice, 
Make every heart, full soon thy close ally. 
Respect thy wishes, thine unspoken choice, — 
Hastening, unbidden, therewith to comply; 
They in thy cheerful countenance rejoice. 
Kindness unfailing, and quick sympathy. 
Peacemaker thou, with equanimity 
And aspirations far above thy care, 
Leavest no duty slighted or undone. 
Living for thy dear kindred, always there, 
Faithful as rising and as setting sun. 
Can I of lovelier mansion be possest. 
Than in thy heart to dwell a welcome guest? 



^^ Stern daughter of the voice of God! 
O Duty, if that name thou love, 
Who art a light to guide, a rod 
To check the erring, and reprove; 
Thou who art victory and law, 
When empty terrors overawe; 
And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity /^^ 

Wordsworth. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS. 73 

XVI. 

When I remember with what buoyant heart, 

Midst war 's alarms and woes of civil strife, 

In youthful eagerness, thou didst depart, 

At peril of thy safety, peace, and life, 

To nurse the wounded soldier, swathe the dead — 

How pierced soon by fever's poisoned dart. 

And brought unconscious home, with wildered 

head — 
Thou, ever since, mid languor and dull pain, 
To conquer fortune, cherish kindred dear, 
Hast with grave studies vexed a sprightly brain, 
In myriad households kindled love and cheer; 
Ne'er from thyself by Fame's loud trump beguiled, 
Sounding in this and the farther hemisphere: — 
I press thee to my heart, as Duty's faithful child. 



*^ In deepest passions of my grief -swolVn breast ^ 
Sweet soul, this only comfort seizeth me, 
That so few years should make thee so much blest, 
And give such wings to reach eternity y 

Brown's Shepherd's Pipe. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS. 75 



XVII. 

TWAS not permitted thee the Fates to please, 

And with survivors share our happier day; 

For smitten early wast thou by disease, 

Whilst with thy sisters thou didst smile and play. 

Wasted by pains and lingering decay, 

Life's glowing currents at the source did freeze; 

Yet, ere the angel summoned thee away, 

Above thy cheerful couch affection's ray 

Did brightly shine, and all thy sufferings ease. 

Dear child of grace ! so patient and so strong, 

Bound to thy duty by quick sympathy, 

They did our hearts irreparable wrong 

To break the promise of thy infancy; 

Ah me ! Hfe is not life, deprived of thee. 



" WilVt ne^er be morning 1 will that promised light 
Ne^er break^ and clear these clouds of night 1 
Sweet Phosphor^ bring the day, 
Whose conquering ray 
May chase these fogs : sweet Phosphor, bring the dayT 

QUARLES. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS. 
XVIII. 

LOVE'S MORROW. 

I. 

It was but yesterday 

That all was bright and fair: 
Came over the sea, 
So merrily, 

News from my darling there. 
Now over the sea 
Comes hither to me 
Knell of despair, — 

" No more, no longer there ! " 

II. 

Ah! gentle May, 
Couldst thou not stay? 



77 



78 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS. 

Why hurriedst thou so swift away? 

No — not the same — 

Nor can it be — 

That lovely name — 
Ever again what once it was to me. 

It cannot, cannot be 

That lovely name to me. 

III. 

I cannot think her dead, 
So lately, sweetly wed ; 
She who had tasted bliss, 
A mother's virgin kiss. 
Rich, gifts conferred to bless 
With costliest happiness, 
Nobility and grace 
To ornament her place. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS, 
IV. 

Broken the golden band, 

Severed the silken strand, 

Ye sisters four ! 

Still to me two remain, 

And two have gone before: 

Our loss, her gain, — 

And He who gave can all restore. 
And yet — Oh ! why, 
My heart doth cry. 
Why take her thus away? 

V. 

I wake in tears and sorrow: 

Wearily I say, 
" Come, come, fair morrow, 
And chase my grief away ! " 

Night-long I say. 



79 



80 SONNETS AND CANZONETS. 

'' Haste, haste, fair morrow. 
And bear my grief away ! " 

All night long, 

My sad, sad song. 

VI. 

*^ Comes not the welcome morrow," 
My boding heart doth say; 

Still grief from grief doth borrow; 

'* My child is far away." 
Still as I pray 

The deeper swells my sorrow. 

Break, break ! The risen day 

Takes not my grief away. 

VII. 

Full well I know, 

Joy's spring is fathomless, — 

Its fountains overflow 

To cheer and bless. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS. gi 

And underneath our grief 

Well forth and give relief. 
Transported May ! 
Thou couldst not stay; 
Who gave, took thee away. 
Come, child, and whisper peace to me, 
Say, must I wait, or come to thee? 

I list to hear 

Thy message clear. 

VIII. 

" Cease, cease, new grief to borrow ! " 

Last night I heard her say; 

'^For sorrow hath no morrow, 

'T is born of yesterday. 

Translated thou shalt be. 

My cloudless daylight see, 

And bathe, as I, in fairest morrows endlessly." 



" Shall not from these remains^ 

From this low mound^ dear ashes of the dead, 

The violet spring ? " 

Persius. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS. 



83 



XIX. 

O Death ! thou utterest deeper speech, 

A tenderer, truer tone, 
Than all our languages can reach, 

Though all were voiced in one. 

Thy glance is deep, and, far beyond 

All that our eyes do see. 
Assures to fairest hopes and fond " 

Their immortality. 



Sing^ sing^ the Immortals, 

The Ancients of days, 
Ever crowding the portals 

Of Time's peopled ways ; 
These Babes ever stealing 
Into Eden's glad feeling, 
The fore-world revealing^ 
God's face ne^er concealing. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS, 



XX. 

Voyager across the seas, 
In my arms thy form I press; 
Come, my Baby, me to please, 
Blue-eyed nurseling, motherless ! 

All is strange and beautiful. 
Every sense finds glad surprise. 
Life is lovely, wonderful. 
Faces fair, and beaming eyes. 

Safe, ye angels, keep this child, 
Life-long guard her innocence, 
Winsome ways, and temper mild; 
Heaven, our home, be her defence ! 



8s 



*' O, how thy worth with manners may I sing^ 
When thou art all the better part of me 1 
What can mine ow?t praise to mine own self bring? 
And what isH but mi7ie own when I praise theeV 

Shakespeare. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS. 8/ 



XXI. 

Dear Heart! if aught to human love IVe owed 
For noble furtherance of the good and fair; 
CHmbed I, by bold emprise, the dizzying stair 
To excellence, and was by thee approved, 
In memory cherished and the more beloved; 
If fortune smiled, and late-won liberty, — 
Twas thy kind favor all, thy generous legacy. 
Nor didst thou spare thy large munificence 
Me here to pleasure amply and maintain, 
But conjured from suspicion and mischance, 
Exile, misapprehension, cold disdain. 
For my loved cloud-rapt dream, supremacy; 
To bright reality transformed romance. 
Crowning with smiles the hard-earned victory. 



" The hills were reared^ the valleys scooped in vain^ 
If Learning's altars vanish from the plaint 

Channing. 



SONNETS AND CANZONETS. 89 



XXII. 

Galm vale of comfort, peace, and industry. 
Well doth thy name thy homebred traits ex- 
press ! — 
Considerate people, neighborly and free, 
Proud of their monuments, their ancestry, 
Their circling river's quiet loveliness, 
Their noble townsmen's fame and history. 
Nor less I glory in each goodly trait, 
Child of another creed, a stricter State; 
I chose thee for my haunt in troublous time, 
My home in days of late prosperity. 
And laud thee now in this familiar rhyme; 
Here on thy bosom the last summons wait 
To scenes, if lovelier, still reflecting thee, 
Resplendent both in hope and memory. 



PART II. 



SONNETS. 



" In sundry moods, 't was pastime to be bound 
Within the sonnet's scanty plot of ground." 

Wordsworth. 



" / like that friendship which, by soft ge?itle pauses, 
steals upon the affections and grows mellow with time, 
by reciprocal offices and trials of love ; that friendship is 
like to last long, and never shrink in the wetti?ig,^^ 

HOWEL. 



SONNETS. 



95 



t. 



In Youth's glad morning, when the rising East 
Glows golden with assurance of success, 
And life itself 's a rare continual feast, 
Enjoyed the more if meditated less, 
'T is then that friendship's pleasures chiefly bless. 
As if without beginning, — ne'er to end, — 
So rich the season and so dear the friend. 
When thou and I went wandering hand in hand ; 
Mine wert thou in our years of earliest prime, 
Studious at home, or to the southern land 
Adventuring bold; again in later time, 
Thy kindly service, always at command 
Of calm discretion, and abounding sense, 
Prompted and showed the path to excellence. 



'^ Power above powers ! O heavenly eloquence! 
That, with the stro?ig rein of commandiizg words^ 
Dost ma?tage, guide, and master the emine?tce 
Of mail's affectio?is 7nore tha?t all their swords ; 
Shall we not off^er to thy excellence 
The richest treasure that our wit aff^ords7 
Or should we careless co77ie behind the rest 
In power of words that go before i?i worth ; 
When all that ever hotter spirits exprest 
Comes bettered by the patience of the North ? " 

Daniel. 



SONNETS. 



II. 



9; 



My thought revives at utterance of thy name, — 

Doth high behavior, sweet discourse recall, 

Lit with emotion^s quick and quenchless flame. 

Imagination interfused through all; 

Then peals thy voice melodious on mine ear. 

As when grave anthems thou didst well recite, — 

Laodamia's vision sad and dear, 

Or '' Thanatopsis/' or '' Hail, Holy Light ! '' 

Thou true Professor, gifted to dispense 

New pathos e'en to Channing's eloquence; 

If mother tongue they fail to speak or write. 

Nor Greek nor Latin draw thy pupils thence; 

Such culture, taught by the far Northern sea. 

This scholar brings. New England, home to thee. 



''^Ascending soul, sing FceanJ^ 

Oracle. 



SONNETS. 



III. 



99 



Christian beloved ! devoid of art and wile, — 

Who lovest thy Lord so well, with heart so true, 

That neither mist nor mote of worldly guile 

May clog thy vision, nor confuse the view 

Of that transcendent and commanding style 

Of god-like manhood ; which had dazed long while 

Each purblind brother's idol-loving eye. 

Sense overpowering doth the soul belie: 

Thou the soul's errand and due place dost see, 

Its heavenly features to thy ken disclose, 

As when in Nazareth thy Lord uprose, 

The Father's image in Humanity. 

A holy service thine, interpreter 

Of Lazarus rising from the sepulchre. 



" The virtuous mind that ever walks attended 
By a strong siding champion^ Conscience.^'' 

Milton. 



SONA-ETS. loi 



IV. 



Channing! my Mentor whilst my thought was 

young, 
And I the votary of fair liberty, — 
How hung I then upon thy glowing tongue, 
And thought of love and truth as one with thee ! 
Thou wast the inspirer of a nobler life, 
When I with error waged unequal strife, 
And from its coils thy teaching set me free. 
Be ye, his followers, to his leading true, 
Nor privilege covet, nor the wider sway; 
But hold right onward in his loftier way, 
As best becomes, and is his rightful due. 
If learning *s yours, — gifts God doth least es- 
teem, — 
Beyond all gifts was his transcendent view; 
O realize his Pentecostal dream ! 



*' Without oblivion there is no remembrance possible. 
When both oblivion and memory are wise, then the 
general soul is clear ^ 7nelodious, and true,^^ 

Carlyle. 



SONNETS. 



103 



Daughter of Memory ! who her watch doth keep 
O'er dark Oblivion's land of shade and dream, 
Peers down into the realm of ancient Sleep, 
Where Thought uprises with a sudden gleam 
And lights the devious path 'twixt Be and Seem ; 
Mythologist! that dost thy legend steep 
Plenteously with opiate and anodyne, 
Inweaving fact with fable, line with line, 
Entangling anecdote and episode, 
Mindful of all that all men meant or said, — 
We follow, pleased, thy labyrinthine road, 
By Ariadne's skein and lesson led : 
For thou hast wrought so excellently well. 
Thou drop'st more casual truth than sages tell. 



"iV^/ on the store of sprightly wine, 
Nor plenty of delicious meats, 
Though gracious Nature did design 

To court us with perpetual treats ; 
'Tis not on these we for content depend, 
So much as on the shadow of a friend,^^ 

Menander. 



SONNETS. 105 



VI. 



Misfortune to have lived not knowing thee ! 
Twere not high Hving, nor to noblest end, 
Who, dwelling near, learned not sincerity, 
Rich friendship's ornament that still doth lend 
To life its consequence and propriety. 
Thy fellowship was my culture, noble friend : 
By the hand thou took'st me, and did'st condescend 
To bring me straightway into thy fair guild; 
And life-long hath it been high compliment 
By that to have been known, and thy friend styled. 
Given to rare thought and to good learning bent ; 
Whilst in my straits an angel on me smiled. 
Permit me, then, thus honored, still to be 
A scholar in thy university. 



" He shall not seek to weave, 
In . weaky unhappy times, 
Efficacious rhymes ; 
Wait his returning strength. 
Bird, that from the nadir's floor 
To the zenith^ s top can soar, 
The soaring orbit of the Muse exceeds that 
journeys length.^^ 



SONNETS, 



VII. 



107 



HiEROPHANT, and lyrist of the soul ! 
Clear insight thine of universal mind; 
While from its crypts the nascent Powers unrol, 
And represent to consciousness the Whole. 
Each in its order seeks its natural kind, 
These latent or apparent, stir or sleep. 
Watchful o'er widening fields of airy space, 
Or slumbering sightless in the briny deep ; — 
Thou, far above their shows, servant of Grace, 
Tread'st the bright way from SPIRIT down to 

Sense, 
Interpreting all symbols to thy race, — 
Commanding vistas of the fair Immense, 
And glimpses upward far, where, sons of Heaven, 
Sit in Pantheon throned the Sacred Seven. 



" The princely mi?id, that can 
Teach man to keep a God in ma?t,— 
And when wise poets would search out to see 
Good meny behold them all in thee I ^^ 



SONNETS, 



VIII. 



109 



Pleased, I recall those hours, so fair and free, 
When all the long forenoons we two did toss 
From lip to lip, in lively colloquy, 
Plato, Plotinus, or famed schoolman's gloss. 
Disporting in rapt thought and ecstasy. 
Then by the tilting rail Millbrook we cross. 
And sally through the fields to Walden wave, 
Plunging within the cove, or swimming o'er; 
Through woodpaths wending, he with gesture quick 
Rhymes deftly in mid-air with circHng stick. 
Skims the smooth pebbles from the leafy shore. 
Or deeper ripples raises as we lave; 
Nor slumberous pillow touches at late night, 
Till converse with the stars his eyes invite. 



'* Queen and huntress, chaste and fair y 
Now the sun is laid to sleep ; 
Seated in thy silver chair, 
State in wonted manner keep: 
Hesperus entreats thy light, 
Goddess excellently bright. 

^^ Lay thy bow of pearl apart, 
And thy crystal shining quiver ; 
Give unto the flying hart 
Space to breathe, how short soever, 

Thou who mak ^st a day of night, 
Goddess excellently bright T 

Ben Jonson. 



SONNETS. Ill 



IX. 



Dear Lady! oft I meditate on thee, 
Noblest companion and fit peer of him 
Whom envious years, in high prosperity. 
Could blemish least, nor aught the lustre dim 
Of that fair-fashioned native piety 
Embosomed in the soul that smiles on Fate, 
And held by him and thee inviolate, — 
Fountain of youth, still sparkling o'er the brim. 
Then I recall thy salient quick wit. 
Its arrowy quiver and its supple bow, — 
Huntress of wrong ! right well thy arrows hit. 
Though from the wound thou see'st the red drops 

flow: 
I much admire that dexterous archery, 
And pray that sinners may thy target be. 



^^ upon the nineteenth day of the first months they keep 
a solemn festival to Hermes^ whereift they eat honey and 
figs, and withal, say these words, ^ Truth is a sweet 
thing ; * and that amulet or charm which they fable to 
hang about her is, when interpreted in our language, 
' A true voice.' " 

Plutarch. 



SONNETS. 113 



Thou, Sibyl rapt! whose sympathetic soul 

Infused the myst'ries thy tongue failed to tell ; 

Though from thy lips the marvellous accents fell, 

And weird wise meanings o'er the senses stole, 

Through those rare cadences, with winsome spell ; 

Yet, even in such refrainings of thy voice. 

There struggled up a wailing undertone. 

That spoke thee victim of the Sisters' choice, — 

Charming all others, dwelling still alone. 

They left thee thus disconsolate to roam, 

And scorned thy dear, devoted life to spare. 

Around the storm-tost vessel sinking there 

The wild waves chant thy dirge and welcome home ; 

Survives alone thy sex's valiant plea, 

And the great heart that loved the brave and free. 



*^ One knocked at the Beloved^ s door, and a Voice asked 
fro77i within, Who is there I And he answered, It is L 
Then the Voice said. This house will not hold me and thee, 
and the door was not opened. Then went the Lover into 
the desert^ and fasted and prayed in solitude, Aiid after a 
year he returned, and hiocked again at the door. And 
again the Voice asked. Who is there ? and he said, It is 
Thyself. And the door was opened to hifnJ^ 

Persian Poet. 



SONNETS. 



XL 



115 



Priest *of the gladsome tidings, old and new, 

To whom by nature fell, as the most fit, 

The saintly Channing's mantle; brave and true. 

Thou heedst thy calling, and dost well acquit 

Thyself of the high mission. Thy sage wit 

(O brother in the Lord, and well approved 

To lead men heavenward to the Father's throne, 

And Son's that sits at His right hand beloved !) 

Hath ministered to every clime and zone 

Washed by Pacific or Atlantic sea, 

With chainless flow 'neath Heaven's unbounded 

cope. 
Son of the Church, saint of thy century ! 
Undoubting faith is thine, and fadeless hope, 
And ardent, all-embracing charity. 



" Philosophy does not look into pedigrees. She did not 
receive Plato as noble^ but she made him such,^^ 

Seneca. 



SONNETS, 



XIL 

/ 



117 



Interpreter of the Pure Reason's laws, 
And all the obligations Thought doth owe 
These high ambassadors of her great cause; 
Philosopher! whose rare discernments show 
Apt mastery of her surpassing skill, 
And why each thought and thing is inly so 
Conceived and fashioned in the plastic Will; 
Thou Reason's canons dost so well maintain. 
With such adhesive and sincere regard, 
That every deviator seeks in vain 
To escape thy apprehension; evil-starred. 
With Dante's sophisters they writhe in pain. 
Then from thy judgment-seat, dismissed with ruth, 
Thou lead'st the stumblers in the way of truth. 



^ Hast thou named all the birds without a gun ? 
Loved the wild rose and left it on its stalk 1 
At rich men^s tables eaten bread and pulse 1 
Unar7ned^ faced danger with a heart of trust 1 
And loved so well a high behavior ^ 
In man or maid, that thou from speech refrained, 
Nobility more nobly to repay ? 
Oh, be my friend, a?id teach me to be thine I ^^ 

Emerson. 



SONNETS. 



XIII. 



119 



Who nearer Nature's life would truly come 
Must nearest come to him of whom I speak; 
He all kinds knew, — the vocal and the dumb; 
Masterful in genius was he, and unique, 
Patient, sagacious, tender, frolicsome. 
This Concord Pan would oft his whistle take, 
And forth from wood and fen, field, hill, and lake, 
Trooping around him, in their several guise, 
The shy inhabitants their haunts forsake: 
Then he, like Esop, man would satirize. 
Hold up the image wild to clearest view 
Of undiscerning manhood's puzzled eyes, 
And mocking say, ^* Lo ! mirrors here for you : 
Be true as these, if ye would be more wise/' 



'' The happy man who lived C07ttent 
With his own town and continent^ 
Whose chiding stream its banks did curb 
As ocean circumscribes its orb, 
Round which, when he his walks did take, 
Thought he performed far more than Drake : 
For other lands he took less thought^ 
Than this his Muse a7id landscape brought^ 

Evelyn. 



SONNETS. 121 



XIV. 



Much do they wrong our Henry, wise and kind, 

Morose who name thee, cynical to men. 

Forsaking manners civil and refined 

To build thyself in Walden woods a den, — 

Then flout society, flatter the rude hind. 

We better knew thee, loyal citizen ! 

Thou, friendship's all-adventuring pioneer, 

Civility itself didst civilize : 

Whilst braggart boors, wavering 'twixt rage and 

fear. 
Slave hearths lay waste, and Indian huts surprise, 
And swift the Martyr's gibbet would uprear: 
Thou hail'dst him great whose valorous emprise 
Orion's blazing belt dimmed in the sky, — 
Then bowed thy unrepining head to die. 



*' Happy art thou whom God doth bless 
With the full choice of thine own happiness ; 
And happier yet, because thouWt blest 
With prudence how to choose the best : 
In books and gardens thou hast placed aright — 
Things 7vell which thou dost u?idersta?id^ 
And both dost 7?take with thy laborious hand- 
Thy 7ioble, in?toce?it delight. 

Methinks J see great Diocletian walk 

I?z the Salo7iian garde?i's noble shade^ 
Which by his own i??jperial hands was made; 
I see him smile, methifiks, as he does talk 

With the ambassadors, who C07ne in vai?i 
To entice him to a throne again^ 

Cowley's Ode to Evelyn. 



SONNETS. 



XV. 



123 



Whilst from the cloistered schools rushed forth 

in view 
The eager Bachelors, on lucre bent, 
Or life voluptuous; even the studious few. 
Oblivious mostly, if they ever knew 
What Nature mirrored and fair learning meant; 
Thou, better taught, on worthier aims intent, 
Short distance from the Pilgrims' sea-washed street 
Thine orchard planted; grove and garden there. 
And sheltering coppice hide thy mansion neat, 
By winding alley reached, and gay parterre; 
Where cordial welcome chosen friends shall meet, 
From courteous host and graceful lady fair; 
Then thy choice fruits we taste, thy wisdom hived, 
England's rare Evelyn in thee revived. 



^* Thou art not gone, being gone, — wherever thou art, 
Thou leav^st in him thy watchful eyes, i?i hirn thy lov- 
ing hearty 

Donne. 



SONNETS. 125 



XVI. 



Bright visions of my sprightlier youthful days, 
With sunny gleams of answering friendliness, 
Thou brought'st me, maiden, in delightful ways, 
In conversation, letters, frank address; 
And these attractions did me so possess, 
The moments all were thine, and thou in sight 
By day's engagements, and in dreams by night. 
Wished I the spell dissolved, or ever less? 
Ne'er may advancing years remove one tint 
From memory's tablet of that happy time ; 
And if thus tamely that romance I hint. 
Forgive my poor endeavor in this rhyme. 
Nor warrant give me now, my cherished friend. 
To add the more, lest I the more offend. 



Nw Se Oavwv Aa/xTrets "EcrTrcpos kv cj>6LfJi€V0LS» 

* T^ou wert a morning star among the living 

Ere thy fair light had fled ; 

Now, bei7ig go7ie, thou art as Hesperus, giving 

New lustre to the dead.^^ 

Plato. 



SONNETS, 



XVII. 



127 



Sweet saint ! whose rising dawned upon the sight 
Like fair Aurora chasing mists away; 
Our ocean billows, and thy western height 
Gave back reflections of the tender ray, 
Sparkling and smiling as night turned to day : — 
Ah! whither vanished that celestial light? 
Suns rise and set, Monadnoc's amethyst 
Year-long above the sullen cloud appears, 
Daily the waves our summer strand have kissed. 
But thou returnest not with days and years: 
Or is it thine, yon clear and beckoning star, 
Seen o*er the hills that guarded once thy home ? 
Dost guide thy friend's free steps that widely roam 
Toward that far country where his wishes are? 



^' Thus smg I to cragg^d clifts and hills, 
To sighing 7innds^ to micrmuring rills, 
To wasteful woods, to empty groves, 
Such things as my dear mi?id most loves l^ 

Henry More. 



SONNETS, 



XVIII. 



129 



Adventurous mariner! in whose gray skiff, 
Dashing disastrous o*er the fretful wave, 
The steersman, subject to each breeze's whiff, 
Or blast capricious that o'er seas doth rave. 
Scarce turns his rudder from the fatal cliff, — 
Scorning his craft or e'en hiniself to save. 
Ye Powers of air, that shift the seaman's grave. 
Adjust the tackle of his right intent. 
And bring him safely to the port he meant! 
Long musing there on that divinity 
Who to his hazard had assistance lent. 
He verses cons, oft taken by surprise 
In diverse meanings, and shrewd subtlety. 
That pass quaint Donne, and even Shakespeare 
wise. 



" But else, in deep of night, when drowsiness 
Hath locked up mortal sense, then listen I 
To the celestial Syrens'^ harmony 
That sit upon the nine infolded spheres, 
A7id si?tg to those that hold the vital shears, 
And turn the adamantine spindle round, 
On which the fate of gods and men is wound. ^'^ 

Milton. 



SONNETS. 



XIX. 



131 



Romancer, far more coy than that coy sex ! 
Perchance some stroke of magic thee befell, 
Ere thy baronial keep the Muse did vex, 
Nor grant deliverance from enchanted spell, 
But tease thee all the while and sore perplex. 
Till thou that wizard tale shouldst fairly tell, 
Better than poets in thy own clear prose. 
Painter of sin in its deep scarlet dyes, 
Thy doomsday pencil Justice doth expose, 
Hearing and judging at the dread assize; 
New England's guilt blazoning before all eyes, 
No other chronicler than thee she chose. 
Magician deathless ! dost thou vigil keep, 
Whilst 'neath our pines thou feignest deathlike 
sleep? 



" There is a Roman splendor in her smile^ 
A tenderness that owes its depth to toil ; 
Well may she leave the soft voluptuous wile,, 
That forins the woman of a softer soil; 
She does pour forth herself a fragrant oil. 
Upon the dark asperities of Fate, 
And make a garden else all desolated 

Ellery Channing. 



SONNETS, 133 



XX. 



Still held in sweet remembrance thou, my friend, 
As when I knew thee in thy maiden prime; 
Though later years to ripening graces lend 
The graver traits, whilst we together climb 
The pathway upward to those loftier heights, 
'Bove clouded prospects and familiar sights. 
Thy gracious worth shines brightly in mine eyes. 
Thy warm heart's labors, thy large liberal brain, 
Ennobling studies, and broad charities, 
Thou woman worthy of the coming age ! 
Whilst household duties thou dost well sustain, 
Yet ampler service for thy sex presage; 
Can aught from Memory's record e'er erase 
Thy cordial manners, and resplendent face? 



" So have I see?t in fair Castile^ 
The youth in glittering squadrons starts 
Sudden the flying jennet wheels 
And hurl the unexpected dart^ 

Scott. 



SONNETS. 



XXI. 



135 



Poet of the Pulpit, whose full-chorded lyre 
Startles the churches from their slumbers late, 
Discoursing music, mixed with lofty ire. 
At wrangling factions in the restless state. 
Till tingles with thy note each listening ear, — 
Then household charities by the friendly fire 
Of home, soothe all to fellowship and good cheer. 
No sin escapes thy fervent eloquence. 
Yet, touching with compassion the true word, 
Thou leavest the trembling culprit's dark offence 
To the mediation of his gracious Lord. 
To noble thought and deep dost thou dispense 
Due meed of praise, strict in thy just award. 
Can other pulpits with this preacher cope? 
I glory in thy genius, and take hope ! 



'^ Many are the friends of the golden tongue. ^^ 

Welsh Triad. 



SONNETS, J 27 



XXII. 



People^S Attorney, servant of the Right ! 
Pleader for all shades of the solar ray, 
Complexions dusky, yellow, red, or white; 
Who, in thy country's and thy time's despite, 
Hast only questioned. What will Duty say? 
And followed swiftly in her narrow way: 
Tipped is thy tongue with golden eloquence. 
All honeyed accents fall from off thy lips, — 
Each eager listener his full measure sips, 
Yet runs to waste the sparkling opulence, — 
The scorn of bigots, and the worldling's flout. 
If Time long held thy merit in suspense, 
Hastening repentant now, with pen devout, 
Impartial History dare not leave thee out. 



" Who faithful in insane sedition keeps, 
With silver and with ruddy gold may vie^ 

TYRT.EUS. 



SONNETS. 



XXIII. 



139 



T WAS when the land was struggHng to break free 
From Slavery's fetter and provincial ban, 
Whilst a great people dreaded liberty, — 
That the dire conflict of thine age began. 
Thy voice rang clear o'er selfish sect and clan; 
Nor politician's, priest's, nor tradesman's plea 
Did aught avail to quench, but more to fan 
The flame that must consume all slavery, — 
The serf then franchised and proclaimed a man. 
Long wast thou heard amid the scoff and scorn 
Of voices potent in thy city dear; 
Steadfast didst face the storm, with heart of cheer, 
And prove thyself the freeman nobly born, 
Preacher of righteousness, of saints the peer. 



" Nothing is here for tears ^ nothing to wail 
Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt, 
Dispraise or blame, nothing but well and fair, 
And what may quiet us in a death so noble^ 

Milton. 



SONNETS. 



XXIV. 



141 



Bold Saint, thou firm believer in the Cross, 
Again made glorious by self-sacrifice, — 
Love's free atonement given without love's loss, — 
That martyrdom to thee was lighter pain, 
Since thus a race its liberties should gain; 
Flash its sure consequence in Slavery's eyes 
When, 'scaping sabre's clash and battle's smoke, 
She felt the justice of thy master-stroke: 
Peaceful prosperity around us lies, 
Freedom with loyalty thy valor gave; 
Whilst thou, no felon doomed, for gallows fit, 
O Patriot true ! O Christian meelc and brave ! 
Throned in the martyrs' seat henceforth shalt sit ; 
Prophet of God ! Messias of the Slave ! 



" O my brethren ! I have told 
Most bitter truth, but without bitterfiess, 
Nor deem my zeal or factious or mistimed; 
For never can true courage dwell with them 
Who, playing tricks with conscience, dare not look 
At their own vices J ^ 

Coleridge. 



SONNETS. 



XXV. 



143 



Nobly censorious of our transient age, 

Hating oppressors in thy love of man, 

Thou didst stride forward on the pubHc stage 

With the bold liberators to the van, 

Scourging delinquents with a lofty rage. 

Iconoclast, who 'gainst foul idols ran, 

TumbHng false gods from their wide-worshipped 

shrine, 
To throne therein the human and divine. 
Charged was thy soul with vehement eloquence. 
Strenuous with ample reason's manly art; 
Thy prayers were fervent, void of all pretence. 
Wrath yielded place to pity in thy heart; 
Eagerly of all learning mad'st thou spoil. 
Before thy lamp, extinguished, spent its oil. 



'' There V not a breathing of the common wind 

That will forget thee : thou hast great allies ; 
Thy friends are exultations, agonies, 
And love, and man^s unconquerable mind J ^ 

Wordsworth. 



SONNETS. 145 



XXVI. 

Freedom's first champion in our fettered land ! 

Nor politician nor base citizen 

Could gibbet thee, nor silence, nor withstand. 

Thy trenchant and emancipating pen 

The patriot Lincoln snatched with steady hand, 

Writing his name and thine on parchment white. 

Midst war's resistless and ensanguined flood; 

Then held that proclamation high in sight 

Before his fratricidal countrymen, — 

** Freedom henceforth throughout the land for 

all," — 
And sealed the instrument with his own blood, 
Bowing his mighty strength for slavery's fall; 
Whilst thou, stanch friend of largest liberty, 
Survived, — its ruin and our peace to see. 



"jS venni dal 7nartirio a qiiesta pace^ 

Dante. 

'^ Ah^ me! how dark the discipline of pain ^ 
Were not the suffering followed by the sense 

Of infi7iite rest and infinite release ! 
This is our consolation ; and again 

A great soul cries to us i7i our suspense: 
' / came from martyrdom unto this peaceJ " 

Longfellow. 



SONNETS. 



XXVII. 



147 



O Thou, my country, ope thine eyes 
Toward what the Future holds for thee ! 
See the brave stripling rise 
From lowliest hut and poverty, 

From stair to stair; 
Nor hardly fix his footsteps there, 

Ere he another round 

Doth upward bound; 
Still, step by step, to higher stair 

Forward he leaps, 
Broader his vision sweeps, 
Till he the loftiest summit gain, — 
A people's hope to further and maintain. 



148 



SONNETS. 



11. 



But lo ! as oft befalls the great, 
The wise and good, 
There for a moment poised he stood, - 
Then passed beyond the gazing crowd 
Within the folded cloud. 

Wasted by weary pains, 

His pale remains 

Now lie in state. 
Swathed in his bloody shroud; 
Peoples and kingdoms bathed in tears'. 
Hear'st thou the welcome greet his ears, 
As he his holier throne doth take? 
This brave of fifty manly years, 
Dies he not now for thy dear sake? 



SONNETS, 



III. 



149 



O follow, thou, his leading far, 
Be thou thyself the morning star. 
Beaming thy glories round the world. 
His name emblazoned on thy flag unfurled ! 
What speak the myriad bells, 
TolHng this day their mournful knells? 
" Ne'er may our weight be swung. 
Never our iron tongue 
Slavery's base might extol 
In town or capitol; 
But o'er a people brave and free 
Ring out in happier symphony 
Garfield and Liberty ! *' 



